


Just a Dream

by Razza



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Hints of resolution, M/M, UST, passing mention of AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razza/pseuds/Razza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has the perfect dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> So this actually popped into my head because on the way home from work I heard the song "Loosing my Religion" by REM on the radio. At first the whole thing was angsty and sad... but somehow between sleep and writing become fluffy with hints of comedy. 
> 
> *shrugs* I don't write the stories, they write me. 
> 
> Also, it's slightly disjointed for a reason in the beginning, just go with it. 
> 
> ... And someday I will actually write a full on sex scene and have an E rated story instead of being a pansy and having a mild M story. XD

_Phil's hands on him, nothing's ever felt so perfect, so right. He can feel the hard callouses of his fingers tracing unknown patterns into his skin, and he feels special, he feels needed. Arching up into those hands, he let's out a breathy noise that under normal circumstances he'd be embarrassed to have anyone hear. Clutching the man's back close to him, he moans into his ear, begging him for more. They're connected, in far more ways than one._

 

Clint's waiting for for Phil when he gets home, a smile on his face before he wraps the other man in a warm and welcoming embrace.

 

_He's arching up for more, asking for exactly what the other man is giving him. He feels Phil's hands pressed against his side, pulling him into a better angle._

 

Patiently, Clint listens to Phil rant about his day, rant and rave about all the other men in his firm and how they know nothing. In exchange, after the other man is done and feels better, Clint's hands carefully undoing the knots in his shoulders, Clint tells him funny stories about his kids attempting to learn archery at the school. Most of the time he has the other man nearly crying with laughter.

 

_Smooth thrusts find home easily, Clint is grasping for that feeling, he's going to reach completion soon, but wants to feel the other man finish inside of him first. Wrapping his arms around his back, he urged the man to thrust harder and faster._

 

It's how they unwind, curled together on the couch, talking and laughing, pressing their faces close. It's perfection and everything that they both want. Winding their hands together, their wedding rings clink gently as they both caress the palms of their hands.

 

_Panting and finished, Phil is curled tightly around Clint, stroking his skin, playing with the cooling sweat teasingly. Rolling in his embrace, Clint grins as he threatens the other man with a second round._

 

It was perfect.

 

Everything Clint ever wanted.

 

_And then he woke up._

 

 

 

The beep of the machine was the first thing that Hawkeye really registered. Blinking slowly, he cringed at the way that hospitals seemed to just crank all their lights up until everything was far too bright. As if making the white walls even brighter could somehow cheer up the patients that seemed to land themselves here.

 

Groaning, he turned his head to the side, spotting his handler passed out in a plastic chair, his suit rumpled and head tilted back as he slept, looking like he needed the rest more than anything.

 

Clint grinned, thinking about teasing Coulson about drooling later.

 

Blinking rapidly, the thought of Coulson smirking slightly with him brought back sharp memories of dream fragments from when he'd been out, Coulson laughing with him, smiling with him... pining him down and then having his wicked way with him, his eyes hot and bright as he stared down at him adoringly....

 

His thoughts were cut off as the door opened and he turned to see Natasha enter. The relief on her face was plain to him, as the slump of her shoulders, although to anyone else it would look as though she was still impassive, untouchable.

 

He grinned up at her, “Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to wake the other man in the room.

 

“Hey yourself,” she said back, just as soft as she perched on his pet, patting his knee fondly. “You were out for a long time there.”

 

Clint blinked, slightly confused, “What happened?”

 

The spy laughed shortly, the mirth reaching her eyes as she shook her head, her red hair bobbing slightly as she did, “You actually fell off your perch.” She grinned, and he knew he'd never, ever, hear the end of this, “You were up high enough that when you came down and knocked your head, you actually managed to get yourself into a coma.”

 

The archer looked surprised, “Well, at least my memories are intact,” he joked, and then pointed at her, “Agent Hill, right?”

 

He grinned as she slapped his leg playfully, “The doctors said the wrong side of your head got hit for your memory to be impaired... they think,” she said, making a face. He laughed and silently agreed with her, doctors always left wiggle room in case they were wrong.

 

“How long as he been here?” he asked, jerking his head towards their handler.

 

Natasha grinned, “All seven days,” she said smugly, as if it was proving some point. Maybe it was, she had told Clint several times to man up and just jump the other man already.

 

After that vivid dream that was practically reality to him, Clint had to admit it would be harder than ever to keep himself in check, his eyes traced Coulson's cheek as the man slept on, blissfully unaware. Clint couldn't stop the feeling of rightness that was building inside of him at the thought of being with the other man.

 

The thought occurred to him that he really didn't have to wait anymore.

 

Though, they should really both shower before Clint jumped Coulson, and probably leave the hospital first.

 

…. Probably.


End file.
